Last night my late grandfather came to me in a dream,
Dressed in the dust coat he wore when gardening,
After planting sunflowers, he was slightly out of breath,
I placed my hand on his chest, and I felt his heart beating,
He coughed, put his bucket down and said my name,
With tears in his eyes, he hugged me, I could smell him,
I could feel his cheek bristles against mine, it was so vivid,
He kissed my cheek and patted my back as he once did,
Repeating my name as the embrace ended, his voice changed,
His Lithuanian accent replaced by one more familiar, as I looked up,
My hand was now on the chest of my father, he was smiling,
With happy tears saying your mum called me, she’s coming today,
I don’t remember the last time I saw him this happy,
Certainly not in the last 31 years since she passed away,
He placed his hand on mine, and told me he loved me,
I awoke, with a tear in my eye and my hand on my chest, alone,
But there was no joy in the dark, only sadness, and mourning,
I placed my hand gently on my wife’s chest as she slept,
I could feel her heart beating, as she held my hand.
Quietly walking the dreaming sands
The sweet floral scent of blue lotus flowers, rides the night breeze,
Warm golden sands, are a soft powder under bare feet,
They rise gently upwards becoming domed dune peaks,
Beyond which lays a velvety black and star-studded sky,
As a full moon slumbers, vivid, white, and luminous,
Beams shimmer across the sands like glittering diamonds,
There is a calming silence, it provides a sense of distance,
From the constant whispering call of the ocean of dreams,
This dreamscape is safe, here the sleeper can walk freely,
This realm is for the hurt, the weary, and the broken,
Its misty confines offer protection, a private place to heal,
So sleep now, and awaken healed, replenished, in the morning sun.
Lost in the secrets of sleep
Stirring from sleep with a jolt,
The heart beating furiously,
The pulse pumping,
A gaze wide and confused,
Covered in cold sweat,
Things unseen move in shadow,
Inner depths cause silent screams,
No way out, there’s no way out,
Lost in dreams of death and black seas,
What secrets do closed eyes see,
More, than woken minds conceive.
Into the black
And just like that,
I sink back into the black,
It envelops me,
Devoured by dark comfort,
I no longer resist the pull,
There’s no point in struggling,
It numbs all senses,
It keeps open eyes closed,
It mutes all sound,
It guides me down,
Then holds me there,
Until I can no longer breathe,
And just like that,
It releases its chokehold.
Sometimes I lose myself
Sometimes, I can lose myself for days,
Time passes quickly, like a rapid heartbeat,
When I find myself again, something is always different,
Following some initial confusion, where I don’t know where I’ve been,
I’m unsure just how long I have been the other me,
Which me was I? Was I kind or cruel, happy, sad, or withdrawn,
Sometimes I can lose myself for days,
And now, I no longer know which me is real.
The Heir of Saturn
Swirling colours, vivid and blinding, pulsate, in a cellophane coloured a sky,
A great blue door is beset by godly hands, vibrating in the colourful scene,
The hands hold a staircase in place, locked in an alien landscape,
Above the door a mighty skull sits, adorned with a golden lock,
Within the keyhole spins a whirlpool of stars,
The sudden arrival of the inner self is a spectacle to behold,
The door swings open revealing the inner self, naked and skeletal,
It glows, beautiful and newborn, emitting a soft blue light from its glassy bones,
My mind is stalled at this point, lost within the colours, one for every hurt,
The spiralling sky becomes a bright portal, spinning, slow, warm and inviting,
The inner self leaves its essence, before fading into that spiralling light,
Shadows fill with starlight, as a swirling green nebula slowly erases the vision,
I awaken in sudden darkness, the stars have faded, and life is reality once more.
Behind the Doors of Sleep
The full moon overhead gazes down like a great pale eye,
I lay, eyes open, wishing I was lost in the land of dreams,
Instead, I find myself trapped within an awakened mind,
Alone, and without comfort, I try to unlock the doors of sleep,
Every uneasy cough pushes me a step away from serenity,
The world is dark, still and warm outside my open window,
It is now 4am, the time for lucid dreaming has past,
The doorway to the world of dreams remains unreachable,
I adjust my position, bedsheets entangle my feet,
My neck aches, and my body groans with digestive intent,
As the great moon above casts its pale eye downward,
An aircraft laden with sleepers, cuts through the silent sky,
My mind only craves sleep, I can feel the doorway approaching,
I write to drift off, hoping that the doors of sleep will open soon,
My weary eyes are the keys that unlock the realm of dreams,
May the doors of sleep slam closed behind me,
So that I can awaken again in the light of the new morning sun.
Ocean of Souls
The sound of ocean waves drives out the death-like silence,
Awakening, as the body sinks beneath the surface of the ocean of souls,
Screaming in silence, it is taken by the dark creatures it now belongs to,
A thousand Invisible arms, wrap, constrict and pull at their prey,
The lungs fill, the scream continues, subdued, and eyes sting in salty brine,
The sky is lit by a million stars that sparkle and dance upon the surface,
As the sea floor is reached, a cloud of black sand swirls and cloaks,
Still staring, still screaming silently, the final resting place has been procured.
The Distant Blue Cell: A Dream Sequence
A blue cubed dream cell vibrates with a deep resonating hum,
It contains nothing but an elderly man with long white hair and blue robes,
The dream cells translucent walls glow and dim in time with the hum,
The occupant slowly and continuously paces the perimeter of the room,
The bright cube is surrounded by a beautiful deep space panorama,
The dream cell rotates, powered by the occupant’s relentless trek,
With the Earth far in the distance, the rotating cell outwardly shines,
From the surface of that planet, the cube itself appears as a distant star.
Yeoman of Dreams
Still awake, he spent the morning dreaming,
Over-indulging in a world he created for the purpose of escape,
Unable to do so, he became disoriented and eventually lost,
He was found drowned, washed up on the shores of the dreaming sea,
In the waking world he disappeared, and nobody noticed his absence,
For he was never fully there, his existence was semi-transparent,
He kept one foot in the present, and the other firmly in the dream realm,
Fruitful was the Yeoman, this cultivator of vast dreamlands,
He sort solace through imagination, and found comfort in the world of dreams,
A rider of two storms, but ultimately he became the master of none.
Dan Verkys 